Page 34 of Ignite

Scrap sat back and crossed his arms in front of his chest, stating without words that he didn’t like the suggestion. “You think we’re that weak we gotta ask someone for help?”

“Yes.” Quillon didn’t back down. “I got a woman I love, work I enjoy, and a club I respect. One is threatened, all three are threatened. My life is good, and I want to keep it that way, whatever it takes.”

Wolf jumped in before Scrap could work up a head of steam. “Who did you have in mind?”

“I spoke to Tower from the Miners’ Sons MC. He’s got a few younger men who are restless and don’t want to spend half their lives underground. They might even patch over if they like city life instead of rural coal mining. Tower said if we got jobs for them and a place to live, he’d send them our way to test the fit, so to speak.”

An idea formed in Wolf’s head. One he loved. “My landlady is moving to her daughter’s place in Florida for the summer. She might even stay there permanently. I can speak to her about letting those guys stay at her place. Two bedrooms on the main floor and my apartment on the top floor. Rent is low as long as we keep the place up.”

Camshaft spoke up. “Sounds like a plan, but where will you be stayin’?”

Wolf grinned. “I got a spot.”

Melter popped his eyes. “Christ on a cracker, you got a woman?”

“Yeah.”

If he wasn’t sure before, he was now. The short answer cemented Jazz’s place in his life more firmly than he realized. The thought of being with her in that odd little house should have been abhorrent to him. Instead, he was already mentally sifting through his stuff to see what he’d bring over and what he’d leave behind.

Melter whooped and slapped his thigh. “Fuck me sideways, you got laid last night!”

Anger flared in Wolf. “How much did those dental implants you got last year set you back? If you want to keep them, I suggest you watch your mouth about my woman.”

My woman.Damn, those words tasted good on his tongue. Almost as good as Jazz herself.

Based on her messed-up words last night, he could tell she was nervous and unsure. The sex was mind-blowing, but was she ready to trust him and his commitment? He was completely confident she would get there.

Quillon brought the main topic back. “So, do we need a formal vote or what?”

A sea of shrugs and a chorus of “Yeah, sures” and “Whatevers” came from the sparse membership. Wolf frowned at the apathy. It seemed like no one really cared about the future of the club. At one time, the name Iron City Knights meant something. It seemed at this point, the club was dying a slow, quiet death, and no one gave a shit.

“Through the fires of hell, men of steel are forged.”The club motto rang in his head like hammers against an anvil. The time would come when they would have to reforge the club. When they did, would the result be a stronger steel or something so weak it would snap in half? Only time would tell.

Quillon waved a hand in the air in a move-on gesture. “Motion carried and approved. Let’s get this shit done.”

18

“So,Leo and Liz are done? Like permanently?” Hugo asked Jazz as he rolled out a sheet of dough and handed it off to the girl next to him. “Remember how to use the cookie cutter, right? Straight rows.”

Hugo had introduced her as Erica, another resident of the group home. She, too, was a person with Down syndrome, but she seemed to struggle more than Hugo. Her eyes focused on the bone-shaped cutter, and she looked uncomprehendingly at the dough before realizing her task. Then she started carefully pressing the tool into the dough in vertical columns.

“That’s it. That’s perfect. Good job, Erica.” Hugo’s praise made the girl grin, and she concentrated harder on making the rows as straight as possible. It was slow going, but no one criticized or hurried her.

Jazz took a couple hours away from the coffee shop during the afternoon slowdown to spend a few minutes with her brother and find some sanity. There was something calming about being in his presence and in his kitchen. The simple, methodical, and repetitive baking of the dog treats was soothing to her, and she found order in his world rather than the chaotic mess of her own. One resident mixed the bowls of dough using four ingredients. The measuring cups were color coded so they didn’t get mixed up: red for the flour, green for the peanut butter, blue for the applesauce, and yellow for the bone broth. The man poured and stirred, then handed off the mixture to the head supervisor, who used the KitchenAid standing mixer. Bowl after bowl lined up for Hugo to roll out and guide Erica through the cutting process. The next person poked holes in each treat before the second supervisor put them in the big ovens to bake.

“Yes, Leo and Liz are done. I don’t think they’ll ever get back together,” she answered Hugo’s question as he lifted the spare dough from the cut cookies and mashed it into the next pile to roll out.

“They don’t love each other, so it’s good that they aren’t together anymore.” Hugo’s round face didn’t show any emotion one way or another.

“I guess you’re right,” she commented, then fell silent as the mixer started up. Her body hummed in time with the laboring motor, and she couldn’t help but replay last night’s events.

Wolf had stayed with her all night, spooning her body and keeping her close. This morning, he woke her much like he’d done the last time he slept in her bed.

“You sore, baby?”

She squirmed as his mouth tugged on one nipple. “I… a little… I… maybe?”

His chuckle tickled against the skin of her abdomen. “I can wait. Besides, I need to get more rubbers. I used up what I had last night.” He slid lower. “But just because I’m gonna take a break doesn’t mean you have to.”

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